


If you're good to go, I'm good to go

by donoteavesdrop



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Secret Relationship, Kissing, M/M, PWP without Porn, non-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 19:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14315739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donoteavesdrop/pseuds/donoteavesdrop
Summary: Ten notices Taeyong acting distant towards him during their V LIVE stream. Ten confronts him. Making out ensues.





	If you're good to go, I'm good to go

**Author's Note:**

> TL;DR: Taeyong and Ten make out after recording this [V LIVE](http://www.vlive.tv/video/61201?channelCode=F3C16D) episode.
> 
> This was supposed to be part of a longer fic, but I decided to post it separately since I decided it could stand alone.
> 
> ~~Also, is it just me or is there a serious lack of Non!AU tenyong/taeten fic in this world?~~

Ten didn’t have the highest spirits after recording their V LIVE episode. Besides feeling starved having eaten his last meal a good eight hours ago, Taeyong’s lack of responsiveness towards him made him feel a tad lukewarm and unsettled. Minuscule things like how Taeyong didn’t remember how he's gotten a new phone since a few months back, or how Taeyong didn’t laugh at his jokes, or how Taeyong wasn’t returning most of his glances and stares on screen weren’t exactly pleasant interactions to swallow, and all this in front of thousands of people watching them through the livestream. Sure Ten can suck it up, brush it off, smile on screen, pretend to be a hundred and ten percent, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t remember hurtful moments afterwards, doesn’t mean he’s immune to letting these instances eat him up inside.

When the V LIVE camera is safely turned off and they’re the only ones left in the spacious room, Ten watches Taeyong fix the strew of items on the desk, mostly consisting of wrappers of food they ate while filming the livestream. Unsure of letting Taeyong know what’s bothering him, Ten resists the urge to pull on Taeyong’s sleeve, not wanting to step out of his bounds. 

“Hyung,” Ten says softly anyway, standing still. “You were so cold to me.” 

Taeyong continues to arrange the items scattered on the desk they filmed on. 

“What do you mean?”

Ten lets out a breath, does it as casually as he can so as not to sound too serious and bothered. “You know what I mean.”

Taeyong doesn’t look at Ten, which the latter takes as a sign of contemplation. “You were so obvious,” Taeyong comments nonchalantly, his back still turned to Ten. “They might suspect something.”

Despite knowing about the discomfort Taeyong had apparently experienced earlier with Ten’s quips and gestures towards him, hearing this from Taeyong came as a relief. He had an impending fear that Taeyong didn’t want him anymore, didn’t want to partake in the sacred yet profane relationship they’ve been honing, scared that the secret they’ve been keeping all this time will no longer cease to exist. 

“Hyung, but won’t they expect something’s up if you suddenly act cold towards me?” Ten responds, though he’s not exactly sure what his point is. He knows Taeyong knows best to shrug off or ignore anything that would implicitly prove what’s going on between the two of them. 

After a long moment of Ten merely standing there watching Taeyong fix his things, Taeyong pauses in resignation and draws out a sigh. “I’ll make it up to you then.” 

Blinking nonchalantly, tiredly, Ten starts thinking of what meals he's craving for, expecting Taeyong to treat him to a delicious dinner. He then realized he had the wrong idea when Taeyong slides next to him and closes the distance between them. “Would you like that?” Taeyong murmurs lowly, sliding his hands beneath Ten’s oversized denim jacket and hooking his fingers in the belt loops of his jeans. Ten's body weight easily gets pulled towards the older man, proving that he's putty in Taeyong’s hands. 

“Do you want me to make it up to you?” Taeyong whispers again, hushed and quiet, his eyelashes fluttering as he gazes at the belt loops he's gripping, then back up to Ten's eyes. The gesture goes straight to Ten’s groin, their breaths mere inches away from each other, and for a brief moment, Ten's sure his subconscious flashes shameless images of he and Taeyong making love on his bed.

If it was his chest beating loudly or the downpour of rain growing louder outside, Ten couldn’t really tell which was which. He’s pretty sure how flustered he looks at the moment, and how he was no longer hungry just for food. It felt so painful, the insatiable hunger he’s been feeling these past few weeks, not only because of the strict diet restrictions new promotions entail him to follow, but the so-close-yet-so-far push and pull relationship he’s been having with Taeyong lately. He’s exhausted and thirsty in every sense of the words, and all he’s trying to do is to keep up, keep going, do good, be good, but then there’s Taeyong, beautiful complex and otherworldly Taeyong, who’s letting them do whatever it is they’ve been doing together that normal friends don’t do, and suddenly it becomes the most difficult thing in the world to think straight. 

“Hyung,” Ten manages to say, leaning away from Taeyong’s grasp and mustering any semblance of self-control left. He grips Taeyong’s shoulders and looks at him with a mix of timidity, want, and panic. “Right now?”

Taeyong briefly glances at the expanse of the room. Seeing and hearing nobody, he hastily walks them both to a hidden corner, gently pushing Ten’s back flat against its wall. 

“If it’s okay with you,” Taeyong barely whispers despite the room being empty. He gives it a final overall glance. Taeyong then looks intently at Ten’s eyes, whose desperation reflects his own. “Can I kiss you?”

Ten falters, his body failing to cooperate with what his mind is telling him to. What would be most ideal is to grab dinner and call it a day, but when they stumble upon moments like this where the two of them are completely alone, Ten knows to completely make the most of it. 

“Are there no cameras here?” Ten stutters, despite his fingers deftly making their way to Taeyong’s slender neck. He stares at Taeyong’s lips, can almost taste the Strawberry Frappe that slid a couple of minutes ago down Taeyong's tongue and throat, moistness passing between Taeyong's soft lips through the drink's straw, and all Ten could of think of was to eat, lick, nip, taste.

Taeyong shakes his head, body hovering closer to Ten’s. “No. No cameras.”

Having no willpower left and a sudden inclination to cry—from exhaustion or from sexual frustration, Ten’s not quite sure which—he cups Taeyong’s cheeks, leans in for an open mouthed kiss, and shuts his eyes tight. Taeyong immediately reciprocates, pushing his hips forward, and lets his tongue wantonly flow and dance with Ten’s. They could have gone at it for five minutes, or ten, maybe even fifteen, neither of them being able to tell time as they kiss each other like shameless hormonal teenagers. The sounds of heavy breathing and wet kissing fills the air, mixed with the rustling and friction of clothing against clothing.

Taeyong’s no longer wearing his black beret, Ten’s fingers messily combing the locks of his hair. “I love kissing you,” Ten can’t help but breathe out like a prayer, saying it in between hasty, rushed, sloppy kisses. Taeyong is palming Ten's body through Ten’s shirt, feeling it all over, anything to grip, to touch, to feel, satisfied by how Ten's body wriggles by the touch of his fingers. Taeyong’s touch electrifies Ten’s body like no other, and Ten realizes that he has never felt this intense attraction and desire towards anybody from all the girls he’s danced with in choreographs and all the boys he’s had close contact with. Nothing compares to touching and being touched by Taeyong, wanting and being wanted by Taeyong, and it terrifies and exhilarates Ten at the same time, so much so that he feels his inhibitions drop whenever Taeyong places his hands on him. 

“I’m hungry,” Ten says, mind cloudy, practically moans into Taeyong’s warm and wet mouth as he snakes his wrist down between their crotches. “Hyung, I’m hungry,” he reiterates, almost whines, making it clear to Taeyong what he meant as he starts palming the stiffness in Taeyong’s jeans. 

The pressure of Ten’s palm sends a jolt of shock to Taeyong’s body. He quickly grips Ten’s wrist tight, white hot clutch, and for reasons they can't comprehend at the moment, the heated atmosphere seems to heighten even more. 

Ten shoots Taeyong a look, then stares down at his wrist being gripped. 

“Hyung.”

Taeyong doesn’t move, just breathes heavily, staring at his hand gripping Ten’s slender wrist.

“Is it okay?” Ten stutters. “D-did I offend you?”

Taeyong loosens his grip on Ten’s wrist, places his other palm flat on the wall beside Ten’s head, inhales and exhales deeply. He closes his eyes, slumps forward, and collapses his face in the crook of Ten’s neck.

“No, it’s not that, it’s just—” he exhales, bringing Ten’s gripped wrist flat on the wall above Ten’s head, and the other arm as well, so that Ten’s arms are raised above his head, leaving him looking deliciously and sinfully vulnerable. “Not now,” Taeyong mutters, pushing his hips against Ten as if letting him know what he meant. They’re both unashamedly hard through their jeans, and although the thought of being sucked off or getting a hand job from Ten often lingers in Taeyong’s mind, now is simply not the right time.

“Just not now. That okay?”

Ten stops himself from gasping and closes his eyes. He nods his head and lets himself relax to Taeyong’s touch. After a moment, Taeyong lets go of Ten’s wrists, letting them fall to his side, and places his own arms around Ten's waist. Ten cups Taeyong's soft face and gingerly paints kisses on the man's cheeks. Taeyong endearingly melts into them. 

“We should get going,” Taeyong slowly pulls away, glancing at the hanging clock on the wall spelling out an almost insulting 9:25 P.M. “It’s getting late. Could feel your intense hunger, too—it’s like you can literally devour me as we kiss.”

Ten smiles sheepishly, raising his hand to abashedly scratch his head. “I’m sorry.”

Taeyong chuckles and flattens Ten’s hair, fixing the debauched mess it’s become by his own hands’ doing. 

“Come on, I’ll get you something to eat.” 

Ten pauses, his eyes growing wide in both shock and appreciation. “Really?” He feels his stomach grumble, realizing how painfully starved he is, and he ridiculously feels that he’s about to cry with Taeyong’s uncalled for kindness.

The edge of Taeyong’s mouth turn upwards in an easy smile. “I told you I was going to make it up to you, didn’t I?” 

Ten doesn’t know what he did to deserve Taeyong, doesn’t know what he did to deserve both his love and his lust, his doting, his guidance, in more ways than one. But as long as Taeyong will let him, let him kiss him, let him touch him, let him love him like this, Ten will take all the chances he could get.


End file.
